Under the Influence
by silverfoxpunk
Summary: Damon and Sheriff Forbes form a relationship that neither of them expects or asks for. But is it possible for them to ever be friends? And maybe what they want, is to be more than friends...
1. A New Friend

**This used to be a One-Shot and is now is being continued. I have corrected a few mistakes in chapter 1, however chapter 2 is all new. **

**I hope you enjoy reading about two of my favorite characters.**

**Please do review and let me know what you think.**

**Also, just (another) reminder that I am on Twitter. Follow AT Silverfoxpunk.**

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**Under the Influence**

**Chapter 1: A New Friend**

If it was to be possible for Damon Salvatore to live a normal life, he was just going to have to do it.

He bit down the sense of revulsion and slapped a smile on his face.

"Hey, we're over here!" Caroline waved emphatically.

She was a neurotic girl, but today she seemed mostly bright and happy. Damon felt a twinge of envy, he couldn't remember the last time he had been happy. No, actually he could – and he pushed that memory deep down as far as it would go. But apart from Katherine, he had very little to draw on.

His group were hanging at the Lockwood's pool, basking in summer sunshine which was glinting off the water and amplifying the tans of the teenagers swimming there. Stefan, Elena, Caroline and Matt were gathered together, relaxed in the sunshine.

"Why hey you guys!", he used an especially sarcastic tone that was not lost on anyone. Caroline's smile became a frown.

"If you don't want to be here, why did you come?"

"Well, I couldn't miss the party of the season could I?" He mocked. She shrugged and took a sip of her soda.

It was left to Stefan, as normal, to break the tension.

"Why don't we get a beer?" He raised his eyebrow in that way that suggested no other option.

Damon wavered for a moment, then capitulated. He was here now, he may as well run with it. He shrugged his acceptance. Stefan dropped his arm from where it rested around Elena's shoulders and jumped to his feet.

Elena took a sip from her Bud and raised her eyebrows in greeting to Damon. Not exactly an emphatic welcome, but better than the cold-shoulder he had been getting.

At the beer cooler (a fancy name for the old bathtub appropriated for this use every year, and filled to the brim with ice), they found Tyler in deep discussion with a girl from Stefan's year. As Stefan stopped to chat, Damon took his opportunity to grab a cold one and move away.

He had no time for jocks like Tyler, they bored him much as they had when he was actually their age and they certainly bored him now.

He meandered around the party for a bit and was mostly ignored by the kids who hung out in groups and chatted and smiled, animated by the warmth of the day and lubricated by the beer in their bellies. He said hello to a couple of people here and there, but he felt underwhelmed. It didn't matter how many times Stacey Adams walked past him with her inflated double Ds batting her eyelashes, she still couldn't solicit his interest.

The beer aroused a wish for something stronger, and he found himself sniffing around the Lockwood property trying to find a 'man's room'; somewhere where the real booze would be kept under lock and key.

It didn't take him long to find the Mayor's study. The air was cooler in here, and the noise of the splashing, laughter and hip-hop beats seemed distant.

At last. Now _this _room was harboring a 25-year old Laphroiag in it, or you could call him a fool.

He grabbed a paperknife from the rather ostentatious five-foot long cherry-wood desk; a statement piece that said 'I'm important' loud and clear. Damon wrinkled his nose, his own house may be a manor, but there wasn't a thing in it which was quite as phony as this. He had always hated pretension in others, even if he was quite happy to adopt it himself.

He meandered around the room, handling the various object d'art and them dropping them again when they failed to get his interest. This whole room was a pretense. But here - now here was something promising. A little oak cabinet with a lock on it. He slid the paperknife in and broke it.

Tanqueray No.10. Gin. Well, that was close enough.

"What are you doing in here?" Sheriff Forbes had that look on her face which she only reserved for punks and bad tippers.

"Sheriff Forbes, what a pleasure. Care to join me?" Damon selected two crystal tumblers from a sideboard.

"That is not yours to enjoy," she said frostily, "I think you should put it back."

"What, and not enjoy this fine gin? That would be a crime. Anyway, it's too late, I have poured it now, so you have to join me. Ice? Lemon?"

As he worked, he sensed her thawing. He put both the ice and the lemon in her glass.

"Please, join me, Sheriff. I have been starved of decent conversation of late, and you look like a woman who knows Schubert from Snoop Dogg."

The Sheriff regarded the drink before her, and Damon, who was willing her with his eyes. He was a very persuasive young man. She began to reach out, but suddenly the glass was pulled back.

"Oh! You are not on duty are you? I wouldn't want to corrupt an officer of the law."

There it was again, that cheeky half-smile. She found herself finding it harder to resist than she should have done. What was it about Damon Salvatore? He seemed to have this effect on her.

"No, Carol Lockwood asked me to drop by on my way home this evening, just to check that the house still had all four walls. I said I didn't mind. And plus, I now have a whole day off."

"My goodness, then you _will_ want a drink." This time he gave it to her and as she sipped it coyly, he regarded her face.

He came to the realization that he wasn't kidding when he said that he wanted her company. Something about this woman intrigued him. He liked her.

Damon moved over with cat-like-grace to one of the leather sofas in the room, sat down, crossed his legs and signaled for her to join him. She did so, sipping all the while on her G&T.

"So tell me Damon, why Mystic? Do you think you will settle here? Do you like our community?"

"So many questions, Sheriff Forbes."

"You can call me Elizabeth you know."

"Elizabeth, that's pretty. A lovely name, Eliza, Beth, Betty…"

She found herself frowning again, not because this line of discussion bordered on flirtation, but because Damon had clearly not meant it that way. He had said it like he was remembering someone or something and for a second he had quite drifted-off altogether.

She was trying to figure him out, a skill that normally came easy to her, but with Damon Salvatore it was quite different. The people in this town that usually boiled down to one of two categories; con-artists or delinquents, but on the surface he appeared to be neither.

Suddenly she felt tired of second-guessing him, even if she couldn't help herself. She supposed that came from a life of joining the dots, but maybe once in a while it was okay just to let things unravel over time.

But there were just so many things about him that intrigued her - like his age for one. How old he was she couldn't quite identify, (beyond that he was definitely too young for her, but also somehow not). An old-soul. Strangely knowing.

In short, she couldn't help herself. And she knew something else too, she was most definitely drawn to him.

Meanwhile, Damon appeared to have snapped back to the present. She spoke quickly to fill the silence.

"It was my Grandmother's name," she offered, "Elizabeth Taylor would you believe." He smiled. Everybody did.

"But you didn't answer any of my questions..." She noted. He smiled wryly.

"Oh, there's nothing much to say. I came back to Mystic to visit family. I have some business here that I wanted to attend to."

"Really? What do you do?"

He could see he had piqued her interest and he needed to kill it off.

"Oh, just some investments and private equity. You know, leveraged buyouts, venture capital. That kind of thing."

"Oh," she wasn't sure what to say to that, "don't you need to be based in the City to do that?"

He wrinkled his nose.

"Not so much these days – thank goodness modern business methods have freed us from the trading-room floor. I can work anywhere and for now, here will do."

She nodded. She had never been good with money, she couldn't even balance her own check-book. Her salary was barely enough to keep her and Caroline fed and watered with a roof over their head. It was always a bone of contention that there was never quite enough to stretch to the little luxuries her daughter often wanted. Just another thing for them to argue about she supposed.

"And your family?"

"Oh, not many of us left…" he jumped up and took her glass from her hand, "…let me get you a refill."

This was the bit where she was supposed to say 'oh no, I mustn't, I was just dropping by', but something made her sit back in her seat and relax.

"Sure, why not."

"That's the spirit, Elizabeth."

Outside she could see the sun was dipping in the sky. She wasn't sure how late it had gotten, she seemed to have lost all track of time.

She found herself with her feet up on the couch, with Damon Salvatore at the other end, resting one hand on her ankle while he sipped from his drink with the other. It was intimate, and she was worried when she realized she liked that.

She ran her hand through her hair and felt bad when she was unable to stifle a yawn.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Don't worry, I have seem to have that effect on ladies." There it was again, that mischievous smile.

She pulled her feet down and his hand fell away. Somehow that yawn had broken the spell of what there was between them.

She panicked. What was she doing here? Getting drunk on stolen gin with a man/boy she barely knew. She had to clear her head. The atmosphere changed abruptly.

"I should be getting home."

He heard her tone, and judged it hostile. "Let me call you a cab."

She nodded.

"I'd offer to drive you, but I wouldn't want a DUI…" he smirked, raising himself from the sofa and walking to the study phone.

She looked at her glass as he made the call. How many had she drunk? She had lost count after five. Caroline would not approve.

"They're on their way. Fifteen minutes they said," She nodded. "Do you want another?"

She shook her head. "Coffee is what I need."

"I think it does everyone good to relax once in a while."

She considered that and supposed he was right. She hadn't relaxed in a long, long time. There was always something, or someone to occupy her. Someone to worry about, or some details to pick over again and again. But today, she had truly forgotten herself. He was good company and she liked being with him. Did it matter that she didn't know his life story? She supposed not. Time to turn the frost-factor down from eleven.

"I suppose I could have one for the road." She offered, taking him by surprise.

"Of course. A nightcap."

When the taxi turned up she was a little unsteady on her feet, and grateful when Damon offered her his arm.

She blushed a little when she thought of all those youngsters wondering what they had been up to in that study all afternoon – her own daughter was here for goodness sakes. But she supposed they were too busy acting out their own lives to worry about hers. That's what these parties were all about. To forget about adults for a while.

When he opened the car door for her, she was once again struck with the sense that there was something truly old-fashioned about Damon. His manners were real, not affected. They came to him without thinking. He had even seemed to dip his head as he shut the door – but maybe that was the liquor that made her see that.

She watched him as they began to drive away: hands behind his back, blue eyes sparkling, that familiar half-smile playing around his lips. He stayed that way until she could no longer make him out.

Eventually she turned away, allowing herself a deep breath she settled deep into the cab seat. For the first time in months she realized, her mind was a delightful, blissful blank.

Tomorrow, she thought - tomorrow was going to be a good day.


	2. Strength

**This is dedicated to Starzee because he/she reminded me how much I love Damon and Liz, and how I really really want them to get together in the show.**

**Those two really have some chemistry. And that's why I have opened up the original one-shot and have continued it.**

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**Chapter 2: Strength**

"What do you want, Damon?"

"Are you going to invite me in?" He said, leaning forwards on the doorframe with both hands. She was tempted to slam the door on his fingers.

"What do you think?" She looked at him with a familiar set to her jaw, the same one her daughter shared.

"I think you're very angry with me, but you want to know the truth. So let me in Liz, and we can talk about it." She sighed. Was there really any point in being stubborn? If he wanted to, he could just compel her into it anyway. She rubbed her thumb and forefinger across her forehead to let him know her irritation.

"Fine, come in then."

"Thank you." She turned her back on him and walked straight back towards the entrance of her basement, and strode into it. He followed after a moment's hesitation. At the top of the stairs a single light bulb illuminated a mess of uncommon proportions.

"What do you want Damon? You can see I am busy."

In the centre of the room, box upon box was spilling onto the floor. From what he could see they contained men's clothing, gym equipment, books. It had the air of messy divorce about it - of things put away and never dealt with. Liz returned to emptying a large box of books onto the floor and sorted through it, chucking the 'keepers' into a crate and the rejects onto a pile. Damon walked slowly down the stairs and over to her side. He bent down and picked up one of the books she had rejected. _The__Will__to__Change:__Men,__Masculinity__and__Love'__by__Bell__Hooks_.

"Light reading." He quipped and tossed it back onto the pile.

"You want to talk, so talk." She had buried herself in a new box of books. He opened his mouth to begin, just as she lifted it up and tipped all the books noisily to the floor. He closed his mouth and touched her arm.

"Liz, please..." She looked at him, his blue eyes were pleading with her. She saw something there; maybe a genuine desire to make amends, maybe not. She felt she could never trust him again.

"Can you just stop this for a moment?" He said, "Can't we get out of this basement, go somewhere quiet?"

"I'm busy, Damon. What do you want? You think you can just come round here and make me stop what I am doing? Disrupt everything just like you always do? You think you can just bat those baby blues and everyone will just do exactly what you want!" She battled to stop herself from crying and he frowned. Taking both her arms in his hands he forced her to meet his eyes.

"Liz," he said quietly, "please come and talk to me." She turned her head away from him so he wouldn't see how hurt she was, but he saw it anyway. He took her hand and lead her from that basement full of dust and painful memories, and up into the daylight. She followed him dejectedly.

He lead her into her kitchen and sat her down.

"What are you doing?" She said, watching him as he began to open every drawer.

"I'm looking for cups."

"Top left. No, your other left." As he floundered, she began to smile despite herself.

Eventually Damon found mismatched cups, spoons, a percolator, fresh coffee and managed to pull the whole thing together. He scalded himself in the process. It healed immediately, but still he winced. She smiled.

"You think that's amusing do you?" He said suppressing his own smile as he gave her her drink. Her eyes sparkled.

"Maybe a little."

He sat down opposite her, so close that their knees touched. The smile on his face slowly disappeared. He reached out and touched her leg.

"Liz, I never wanted to lie to you."

"Damon everything you've ever said to me is a lie. What makes you think I'll believe you now."

"Because you are a good judge of character -"

"Ha!"

"- and because you know that everything I did was to protect the people I love."

"Like Caroline you mean?" That one hit home. She looked up at him, yes, he was ashamed about that. His removed his hand.

"What happened is between us. It has nothing to do with you."

"She's my daughter."

"Whom you don't speak to." They exchanged glances. Okay, this was going to be one of those conversations.

"We speak now Damon, you _know_ that."

"Like _you_ know I never wanted to hurt you." He put down his coffee and gripped her knee. She ground her teeth. Her body was as tense as it could be.

"I should throw this damn coffee in your face." She said with a sudden flare of anger. She got up and strode over to the sink, poured the coffee down it and slammed the mug down. "Get out of my house, Damon." He stood too and moved over to her - put his hand on hers, but she shook him off and turned to face him with eyes so world-weary that he felt the ache of her pain.

He dropped the tone he used with everyone else. He didn't touch her, or get angry - he just spoke to her. Showed her the real Damon Salvatore, like he always did.

"Liz, in my long life, I've never met anyone who really deserves to hear me say these words, but to you I will, because I mean them. I'm sorry."

He turned and left the kitchen and walked towards her front door slowly. He had it open and was almost outside when he heard her voice.

"Damon." She called after him. He paused, turned, his eyes hopeful. "I take cream in my coffee. And sugar, lots of sugar." The corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

"Then I had better try again." He said.

* * *

It was almost midnight. She had opened the last bottle of pinot-something-or-another from the wine club she never wanted to join, and was unsteady on her feet. She stumbled and he caught both her and the glass.

"Whoa there cowgirl. Sit down. I'll do this."

"I still don't trust you."

"To pour a glass of wine? I think I can be trusted with that."

"You know what I mean."

He brought the glass over to her and she reached up for it. He withdrew the glass.

"Stand up."

"You just told me to sit down."

"And now I am asking you to stand up. Please." She was curious - an occupational hazard she supposed. She got to her feet and he stood a small distance away from her. He moved as if to hand her the glass and as she reached for it, he grabbed her wrist. She looked worried, tried to pull away, but his strength was too much for her. She started to get stressed, tugging and wrenching at him with all her strength until she gave in, went limp. He let her go.

"Why did you do that?" She asked, annoyed.

"Because I wanted to show you I could have killed you at any time."

"What? Why?" Her face became a snarl. "You wanna show me you're the big, bad, scary vampire, Damon? I already knew that from the kids I have had in my morgue and the parents I've looked straight in the eyes and lied to about why they are burying their children." She looked furious at him. "I've been covering up your shit since you came to this town. Your nasty, dirty, fucked-up shit."

He looked away, knew that what he was trying to say had come out all wrong. She slumped back down onto the couch and took another slug of wine. She was descending fast into drunk and surly. He had to try again - he wanted to. He sat down beside her. "I'm not Caroline," she continued, "or Vicki, or any of those other silly little girls who have their heads turned by your looks and your smooth talking." She slurred, leaning towards him and grabbing his lapel. "I know what you are."

"I don't doubt that, Liz. I just want you to know that when I'm with you, I am also someone else. I can be someone _other_." She looked confused, dropped his lapel, fell back and drank more wine. "I may have not been honest about what I was," Damon continued, "but I've always been honest about who _I_ am when I am with you."

"No you haven't!" Liz scoffed, annunciating each word bitterly, "Jesus, you've told so many lies, you've forgotten what truth_is_." She hiccupped. He grew so irritated that she was burying herself in her glass that he snatched it away. "Hey!" She protested. He put it out of her reach and leaned forward so that she could not focus on anything but him. He felt anger swell in his chest.

"Liz, I don't do begging, I don't do apologies, I don't ask for forgiveness because I know I don't deserve it. But I am _telling_ you that when I say to you I never wanted to destroy our friendship, I mean it. I _hate_ that I hurt you." Her eyes swam with tears.

He wanted to reach her. Why wouldn't she let him?

"You fucked my daughter!" She shouted suddenly, followed by a sob. The bitterness of her words bit deep into him. He nodded. He couldn't look at her. He couldn't look at her and face her pain. "You fucked her and you hurt her."

"I know."

"Why did you do that?"

"Caroline is a beautiful girl, but I didn't know her then. Not the real her."

"How could you do that? How could you hurt my baby girl?" Her tone of voice said more than her words. They both knew the truth of the real hurt behind those words, and it ran deep. Damon reached out and touched her hair, tucked it behind her ear. His face darkened by a frown.

She breathed heavily, her gaze steady on him. The air was thick with the tension between them. His hand continued to stroked her hair. He didn't know what to do. He was stuck between knowing what was right, and doing what was wrong. He couldn't decide where his potential actions fell on either side of that line.

He leaned over and gave her a light kiss on the lips. She blinked. His hand still played with her hair. He couldn't seem to let her go. He moved towards her, kissed her lightly once more. She kissed back. Just a flutter of lips upon lips. His hand now cupped the back of her head. His eyes didn't meet hers, they moved across her face, trying to read it for signs. His mind raced, he couldn't decide. He couldn't decide and he had to. He knew how lonely she was, how he could be there for her and be the one to make her feel beautiful again. Make her feel wanted, needed, desired.

She moved in and kissed him this time. Her lips parted and so did his. She moved into his arms, her body warm and firm as it is pressed against him. He felt need rise up in him. He pulled her closer. She needed this - wanted it so badly and maybe he did too. Her tongue engaged with his and he let himself want her, let himself be with her. He was growing hard for her. She had her hands around his head and was shifting her body so she could move onto his lap. He broke the kiss suddenly and pulled back abruptly. The sound of their lips parting was the only sound in the room.

He jumped to his feet. Ran his hands through his hair. Paced.

"Liz, if we do this, there is no going back. Not ever." She looked distraught. Defeated.

He went to her, sat back down and stroked her arm. "I'm going to take you to bed now." The way he said it, made it clear there was no agenda. It was the way a father speaks to his child. She didn't comment. He didn't swing her up into his arms, like he would Elena. He stood and offered her his hand and she took it, pulled herself up. Held her chin high. Walked carefully towards the door with him behind her.

* * *

In her room, he closed her curtains as she flopped down on her bed. Her mascara had run a little and she brushed it away with irritation. Her lips felt wine-stained and her tongue furred. She wasn't quite sure, but she suspected she couldn't see straight.

He moved to her side, encouraged her to lay down by placing a hand on her shoulder. She lay on top of the duvet, so he went and found a blanket and covered her with it. He stroked her hair, then stood up to leave.

He got to the door and looked back at her. "Goodnight, Liz."

"Damon." She said. He turned back again, and looked at her with downcast eyes. "Don't go." She begged.

He paused before he spoke. His eyes looked at her with great sadness.

"If I stay, you will hate me for it." He said, turned and walked out, closing the door gently behind him.

Liz turned her face into her pillow, and cried.


	3. Arresting

**Oh my, I so loved writing this. I hope you are reading it because you love Liz and Damon too. Please do review and let me know what you think.**

**Follow my on Twitter if you want the lowdown on what I am writing, reading and watching. AT Silverfoxpunk.**

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**Under the Influence**

**Chapter 3: Arresting**

He paused outside the police station and collected himself. It wasn't something he did very often, but before facing Liz he felt the need to. With her, he wanted to think things through and understand the consequences, rather than do his usual and play it by ear. Perhaps that is why he valued her friendship so much - she was the only person he could think of that brought that quality out in him.

Two cops pushed past him as they bundled a scruffy guy in handcuffs into the main entrance. He followed them through the still swinging double-doors.

"Ma'am, where do you want this one?" One of the burly deputies asked.

"Take him to processing, Bill. I want your report in a minute."

A disembodied voice called out from an unseen office._ "Sheriff, I have Assistant District Attorney Groves on the line for you."_

"I'll take the call, Margaret." She tossed back over her shoulder.

"Liz." He said quietly. She swung her head back to look at him, perhaps astonished to hear her name and not her title. She blushed heavily when she saw who it was, but tried to cover it up with her normal icy professionalism.

"I'm busy, Damon. You can see that."

"_Sheriff, the ADA's on line six." _The voice called out again. Her phone lit up and she placed her hand on the receiver.

"I won't take a moment of your time." He said quietly.

"I'm at work and I don't really see what we have to talk about." She was about to pick up the phone, when his hand shot out and covered hers. There was a moment where she looked shocked. Maybe she had forgotten the speed of his reactions, or perhaps she had temporarily forgotten what he was. Whichever it was, she looked like she wanted to forget.

He softened his hand and slipped his fingers between hers.

"Please, Liz." He said quietly.

Another voice demanded her attention. _"Sheriff, we have a suspect in cell six asking to see his attorney." _

"Fine, Alan." She called back to the unseen deputy. "Let him have his call. And order up his prison records from the State Department."

"_Yes, ma'am."_

Her eyes looked down to their hands on the phone together. He could feel her fear that the Assistant DA would hang up.

"_Sheriff, I put that call through like you wanted it. It's bouncing back to me. Are you there?"_

"Dinner. Tonight. My place. Eight o'clock." Damon said calmly.

"_Sheriff?" _Her assistant shouted again, irritation in her voice.

"Don't be late." He said finally removing his hand. He was surprised at how reluctant he was to do that. He cast his blue eyes over her hazel ones and knew she was hurting badly. Any idiot could see that.

"Damon, I'm not going to -"

"_Sheriff? Do you want this call or not?"_

"Put it through, Margaret." She gave him a desperate look and wrenched up the receiver. "Assistant DA Groves, I am so sorry to keep you waiting..." She sounded flustered, so he tore his eyes away and pushed his way back through the double doors and out into the daylight.

* * *

"I'm glad you came."

"I hope I won't regret it." She said, looking nervously at him. He gave her a slight smile.

"Please, come in."

She stepped over his threshold, looking anxious. Even though she had been inside the boarding house before, she didn't remember that, and it was a pretty imposing place. He closed the door carefully behind her and beckoned her go through.

As she entered his lounge, she turned to face him and handed him the bottle of wine she carried.

"I wasn't sure what to bring." He took the wine from her.

"You didn't need to bring anything." He said. "But thank you." He walked over to his drinks cabinet and found glasses.

"Please, take a seat."

"Damon, what am I doing here?" She said softly, looking every bit like she wanted to turn tail and bolt. He poured two glasses of her wine and held one out to her.

"Liz, please come and sit down and have a drink with me." He coaxed. She walked further inside the room somewhat reluctantly.

The room was lit dimly, but of course he could see perfectly. Despite her anxiety, it was clear to him that she had taken great care over her appearance before coming over. She looked striking out of her uniform and she smelled of a gentle, floral fragrance - a perfume that he couldn't quite place. Her hazel eyes looked darker and warmer in the lamplight.

She took a glass from him and sat on the couch opposite. Although he didn't like the distance between them, he said nothing. He ran his arm over the back of his own couch and settled in. She sat upright and looked a little stiff.

"I was sat in the car for twenty minutes listing all the reasons why I should just switch the engine on, turn around and go back home again." She began.

"I know." He said softly. If she was unnerved by that, she didn't let it show. He had heard her arrive and when she didn't come right to the door, he suspected it was something like that.

"Damon, I am..." she searched for the right word, "embarrassed about what happened before..."

"You don't need to be." She looked at her hands. Took a breath. They both knew it was because of him that she wasn't dying of shame right now.

"Damon, I think you know that I have been alone for a long time now. And perhaps, perhaps that means that my judgment isn't always what it ought to be. I guess, I'm trying to say that I'm... Well I'm trying to apologize to you for... Well if I embarrassed you, or overstepped-"

He stood up and moved over to her, took her hand and lifted her to her feet.

"Damon, I am trying to say-" When he kissed her she almost dropped her glass in amazement. He caught it with vampire speed and as he closed his arms around her, he had a glass in each hand so he could not pull her as close as he wished. However, his kiss was deep and soft, and he let his tongue gently explore her mouth until she kissed him back. When he pulled away at last, he looked deep into her worried eyes.

"Don't apologize for what we both wanted." He said steadily. He could feel her pulse race. He took both their glasses into one of his hands, so that with the other he could brush her cheek. She was breathing hard and looking at him with a mixture of shock and desire, but also more than a little fear. He knew how desperate she was not to get hurt. He was asking her to let down her barriers when she only had a delicate grasp on her feelings. He knew that it was vital that he not play with that.

"Damon, I... I don't know what to say." She stammered.

"Then don't say anything." He said kissing her cheek gently. "Come on." He said lightening his tone. "Let's go eat. I didn't spend an hour making chicken parmigiana from scratch just to let it incinerate." He stroked her face again and looked into her eyes until eventually she gave him a smile. "Are you hungry?" He asked. She nodded. "Good! I always make enough to feed an army. Must be the Italian in me." He gave her her glass back, then took her free hand and lead her towards the kitchen. He couldn't help but notice that she shook like a leaf.

* * *

They ate by candlelight and she complimented him on his culinary skills. After a glass or two of wine she began to relax a little. As always, he found her good company and before long he was laughing as she told him a story about a series of disastrous dates she had had after her husband had left her.

"I told you I was bad at love." She said as he chuckled. Her eyes flicked up to him, he didn't miss the significance.

"No, you're not bad at love - you were just pushed into dating way too soon."

"My friends were just worried about me." She argued.

"Sometimes friends can be a damned nuisance." He looked at her and gave her a wry smile and when she caught that he was referring to himself, she smiled back, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight. She looked away and when she caught his gaze a second time, her pulse spiked.

"Come on, help me polish off the last of this." He said. "I don't do leftovers." She smiled and nodded.

* * *

They cleared the dishes together and she admitted it had been a long time since she had eaten a proper home cooked meal. He felt that same feeling come over him as it often did when he talked to her. He couldn't put a name to it, he only knew that it hit him hard and he wanted to be there for her.

They sat together at his kitchen table and opened another bottle of wine, but tonight she drank cautiously. She sipped at the rich Merlot and looked over at him.

"Damon, why did you ask me here tonight?"

He looked confused. "Because I wanted your company of course." He said, as though that was obvious.

"You could have stayed at the station. Came back when I was less busy." She looked into her wine as though it held the answers. He reached out and closed the small distance between them by placing his hand on her thigh. His lowered his voice.

"I think if I did there what I have in mind, there is a strong chance I might have been arrested." He slowly slid his hand up her leg as he looked into her eyes. She looked shyly down at his hand. Her heart beat wildly.

"Damon," she whispered, her voice breaking, "please don't do this if you don't mean it. I couldn't take it." He lifted her chin with the crook of his finger so that her eyes met his.

"I don't want to hurt you, Liz." He said calmly. "This is your life. Your happiness. And it's your choice." She looked at him for almost a whole minute, before leaning in to him and connecting her lips with his.

* * *

When he lay her back on his sheets, he could feel how fast her heart raced. He knew how nervous she was.

"I feel so old next to you." She said, a half smile on her face. She was joking - but she also wasn't.

"Now, you _know_ how ridiculous that is." He said. He smiled and kissed her again deeply, running his hands down the silken front of her blouse and slipping open the buttons one by one. She tipped her head back and moaned as he kissed down her chest, ghosting his lips across the lace edges of her bra. He nuzzled at her nipples through the fabric. He could smell how aroused she was and he felt himself stirring to be inside her. He wanted so much to look at her face as he made love to her.

They took things slowly and he let her set the pace. He wanted her to know just how much he wanted and desired her, but entirely from a place of respect.

In the end, their lovemaking was more erotic than either of them had expected. She pushed all his buttons with that same earthy sensuality that made him want to be with her in the first place. Now they lay on their sides and his hand clasped hers on his pillow. She moved herself into his body as he pressed her deeper into his sheets. He kissed the back of her neck as his thighs brushed against hers and he began to make love to her from behind. Beads of perspiration gathered in the small of her back as he enthusiastically nuzzled at her skin. He took in all of her, through every heightened sense he had.

His fingers and lips up to this point had only enticed the gentlest of murmurs and sighs from her lips, but now as she rocked back hard against him, she was growing more vocal. He intensified her excitement by caressing her breast. Suddenly she climaxed hard, and as her muscles contracted fiercely around him she cried out. Her whole body shook with the power of her orgasm and he found himself not being able to hold back any longer. He whispered_ "Elizabeth"_ into the nape of her neck and came too with a shudder.

They lay together, his arms pulling her tight against his body as he peppered her with kisses.

"Oh my God." She breathed heavily and he smiled into her skin. "Tell me that was good for you, because I will just die if it wasn't."

"Liz, it was fantastic and you are beautiful." He said nuzzling his lips against her neck. She squeezed his hand on her body and then wriggled around to face him.

"Damon. What happens now?"

"Now you fall asleep in my arms, and in the morning you can relax in my bath whilst I make you the famous Salvatore breakfast."

She smiled, but also pulled him back to her practical world by telling him, "You know what I mean." He flipped onto his back and reached his arm out to her, encouraging her to move into his chest, which she did. He put his arm around her shoulder and held her close.

"I think that's up to you. I'm here, if you want me. And if you don't, I'll understand. But you know I care about you Liz, and I am happy that you are here right now." She grew quiet and thought about that for a while.

"Thank you." She said after a moment.

"For what?" He said with a bemused smile.

"For being here." He pulled her closer into his body and kissed her head.

"I don't want us to fall out again. Promise me, that if you ever have a problem with either Stefan or I, that you will come and speak to me first about it." She nodded and he stroked her hair.

"Do you want me to run you a bath? Or do you want to go to sleep?" He said, looking down at her. She met his eyes, with a distinct hint of mischief.

"Nope." She said. "Can I suggest a third option?" He smiled.

* * *

In the morning, she didn't actually stay for the famous Salvatore breakfast. They made coffee together and she kissed him shyly at the door and thanked him for a wonderful evening. Her hand lingered in his, and as she walked away and they finally let go, he missed the touch of her fingertips.

He watched her drive away, then walked back into the house. He could still smell her on his skin and he breathed in deeply so he wouldn't forget.

He wondered if she would call on him again, but something told him that she wouldn't. He felt a little saddened by that. However, as he walked slowly upstairs again, he realized that what he cared about most, was the fact that he had restored their friendship.


	4. How do we stop this thing?

**Under the Influence **

**Chapter 4: How Do We Stop this Thing?**

The Grill was heaving. The headline act were on at last and from his seat at the bar, Damon cast his eyes over to the female bass player - who was definitely worthy of the attention she was getting. She giggled as a man in the crowd begged her for her plectrum, she gave it to him and a scrum broke out. She smiled prettily. She actually seemed rather shy. None of those men had a chance with her, but he could. He knew what made girls like her tick.

The band began to play, they were too big for a small town like this, but the drummer had grown up here and so they had returned to Grill to help it celebrate the one year anniversary of its re-opening. They opened with a cover version of Talking Heads' _Burning Down the House_. Damon gave a wry smile as he sipped at his drink. He liked their sense of humor.

Despite the noise of the crowd and the band, his hearing suddenly tuned in to a familiar voice. He looked behind him, leaning back to see past the other people at the bar. When his eye caught who he already suspected it was, he was surprised by the deep surge of desire that passed through him.

Liz was stood at the back of the room, leaning in to try and hear the bar owner talk about liquor licensing code violations. He was having to shout and she was straining to hear him. She was in uniform and therefore on duty, but she looked like she would rather be anywhere but here. Suddenly it was as though she knew she was being watched and her eyes found him. He gave her his sideways smile. Her eyes twinkled back and she blushed. God he wanted her.

She went back to listening and nodding to the bar owner and Damon returned to his drink, but he couldn't concentrate and after a couple of minutes, he downed it, got up and walked over to them both.

"Hello." He said, raising his voice over the crowd and interrupting their conversation. Liz's face stayed serious but her smiling eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"Drew, this is Damon Salvatore, from one of our founding families. Damon, this is Drew Banks, he is the owner of the Grill."

"Nice to meet you Damon." Drew shook his hand. He was a thick set man in his fifties. A bit serious - looked like he could talk about liquor licensing codes all night.

"The Sheriff and I were just discussing some of the problems with licensing for an event like this." Damon nodded, his eyes found Liz's and she had to look away, biting down the smile she was harboring.

"Mm, I am sure that is very tricky." Damon concurred.

"Oh yes," Drew added seriously, "you would not believe how many departments I had to speak to at the council to get this sorted. I was just saying to the Sheriff here, wasn't I Sheriff, that those councillors do not know what the heck they are doing."

"That's right, Drew. You sure were." It was Damon's turn to look away and choke back a smile.

"Not a single American in the building. I mean, if they are going to put Licensors through that kind of thing, then they could at least put people on the call centers who understand American. Plain and simple." He shook his head. She looked at Damon.

"Well, Sheriff..." he said, "I came over because I heard a conversation at the bar that concerned me. And I thought as a good citizen I should report it."

"Uh-huh?" She replied seriously, a frown forming as she shifted her hip, making her body take on a more authoritative stance. It was a force of habit. He thought it was cute. "What can I help you with, Damon?"

"Well, ma'am," he added the ma'am after a pause, she frowned more deeply as she tried not to laugh. He was loving this. "I think I heard two boys at the bar saying they were going outside to smoke some ganja." He said dramatically. The fake horror in his voice was lost entirely on Drew, who reacted angrily.

"Weed, in my bar? I don't think so." He squared up and looked like he would throw the blighters out himself if he could get his hands on their scrawny necks. Liz put out a calming hand to block him.

"Drew, I'll take care of this." She said and he relaxed a little, but still looked concerned.

"If you find them, you tell them they are barred. I won't have drugs in my establishment." He said gruffly. At that moment the band played one of their biggest hits and the crowd roared and surged forwards.

"You think you would recognize them if you saw them again?" Liz shouted at Damon. He leaned in, cupped his ear as if he couldn't hear her. She suppressed a sigh at his appalling acting and repeated herself.

"Sure, let's go take a look outside." He said, grabbing her hand and almost yanking her off her feet away from Drew and the dancing crowd.

* * *

As soon as they left the heat and noise of the bar, he swept her into his arms, pushed her back against a wall and kissed her passionately. She let herself be kissed, but as soon as things started to become too heated, she pushed at his shoulders and came up for air.

"Damon, I can't." She said breathlessly, "I'm on duty."

"To hell with duty." He leaned in and locked his lips with hers, nudging open her mouth with his tongue. She melted into the kiss for a moment, not being able to help herself. Her arms slipped around his shoulders and her hands threaded into his hair. She could feel how much he wanted her and the feeling was mutual. He began to slip open the buttons of her uniform and he slipped in his hand and squeezed her breast. With a gasp, she pulled back again and this time she ducked out of his arms and hurriedly did up her shirt.

"We are not doing this." She said firmly. "Not here, not now." He stood looking at her without an ounce of remorse on his face. He cocked his head to the side.

"Do you know how hot you are when you are angry?" He said. She tried to play bad cop with him.

"I am on duty and we are in _public_!" She hissed. He ran towards her at vampire speed and she suddenly found herself trapped in his arms again. He linked his hands at the base of her back and held her against him gently. She felt a little dizzy as she looked up into his eyes.

"When do you get off duty?" He asked.

"Not until six in the morning."

"Perfect. Come to the boarding house then."

"Damon, I..." She began, trying to give him some reason - any reason - why she thought it would be a bad idea. Her words failed her.

"Keep the uniform on." He said in a low, gravelly voice. "And don't forget the handcuffs." She barely had time to roll her eyes before he was gone, leaving her reeling. She righted her hair and checked her shirt was correctly buttoned up, before going back inside.

* * *

She lay in his arms, panting. He looked at her, ran his finger across her forehead to move her bangs out of her eyes. He gave her a smile, and she blushed.

"Jesus, Damon. We cannot keep doing this."

"Why not?"

"Because. I don't know, just because."

"Don't you like it? It seemed like you liked it to me. I mean generally when girls make those noises, I tend to think they are..." She gave him a friendly thump in the chest with the flat of her hand. He screwed up his face, caught her hand and held it to his chest. Wrapped his fingers around hers.

"Police brutality."

"You're incorrigible."

"Sorry, what was that? I didn't hear you. I'm lovable - huggable? What?" She smiled despite herself.

"I need a shower." She said pulling away from him. "Mind if I have one?"

"Sure. Go ahead." She tried to get up but he pulled her back down on top of him and he kissed her bruised lips again softly. She relaxed into the kiss and he held her against his chest.

"Damon, seriously - what is this?"

"Aren't you having fun?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Then why do we have to put a label on it? Let's just keep it simple. Okay?" She nodded, but he could tell this conversation only had a temporary pin in it. He kissed her quickly again and let her go. A minute of two later, he heard the shower power up and he relaxed.

As he lay back, his thoughts moved to their conversation. What _was_ going on between them? Perhaps he didn't want to answer her question because he couldn't. He only knew that every time he saw her, he wanted her. They never planned to meet, never called each other. But the last three times they had bumped into each other, they had ended up in bed. And he was surprised at his deepening affection for her. And the sex had been, well frankly great. She was fit and athletic, knew what she wanted and wasn't scared to experiment.

But he knew deep down, that he was very much in love with Elena, and he had promised himself before he started this thing that he would not do anything to hurt Liz. He had to find a way to quash his feelings before he did just that. Perhaps he would make this the last time.

He needed a shower himself, so he jumped out of bed and strode into the bathroom. Before he put this thing aside, he just wanted one more chance to make her sigh with pleasure.

She didn't hear him come in. He stepped into the shower and pressed himself against her. The way she relaxed against him made him realize that giving this up, was going to be harder than he thought.

* * *

He followed her car into town, as they had agreed to have a late brunch together like ordinary people. Sat in the red booth of the diner and sipping on a cappuccino she looked serious. Too serious. Her breakfast arrived and she thanked the waitress. He drank a black coffee, but didn't feel like eating.

It was raining outside and the gloom suited his mood. She began to eat, but after a couple of mouthfuls she pushed her plate away.

"Not hungry?" He asked. She shook her head, he saw tears welling in her eyes.

"It's over isn't it?" She said. Her shoulders slumped forwards and her hands were shaking on the table. She pulled them away and hid them from him because she hated to show any weakness. He leaned forwards, stroked her face. Lifted it gently so she looked at him.

"I think it has to be." He said.

She looked away, glanced outside at the falling rain. They were quiet for a few moments, and he sat back in his chair. Neither of them could bring themselves to speak. She stood up and he followed, pulling some notes out of his wallet and tossing them on the table. She walked to the door and he got ahead of her and opened it for her. Numbly she walked into the rain and walked her over to her car. She unlocked the door and went to get in, but he put his hand on the door and gently closed it again.

"Liz," he said, struggling to verbalize what he felt, "you are an incredible woman." She looked at him, the rain made her hair lank and water dripped down her face. He swept his own damp hair out of his eyes. "I think you know how much you mean to me. But it wouldn't be fair of me to let this thing spiral out of control. Not for either of us." She didn't nod, didn't speak, just moved his hand out of the way. He stood back and watched as she climbed into the car, started her engine and drove off.

He cursed under his breath. If this was for the best, then why did it feel wrong?


	5. What you do for me

**Under the Influence**

**Chapter 5: What You Do For Me**

He got home and went upstairs to get out of his sodden clothes. As he stripped off, he realized his whole room smelled of her. His sheets were still rumpled from where they had made love. He cursed again loudly and sat down in his chair.

This was wrong. All wrong. When had he, Damon Salvatore, ever, _ever_ wanted to call a woman after he had broken up with her? It was ridiculous.

There was a better option to be had. He just flipped the switch inside himself and turned his feelings off.

He tidied up the mess in his room and got dressed. He picked up his phone, called Alaric and asked him to go for a drink.

Sometimes it was good to be a vampire.

* * *

He rolled into his house sometime the next day. He was steaming drunk, which took some doing. He fell over his own boots as he tried to take them off and decided it would be just easier to consider them a permanent fixture and lay down on the floor where he was. He looked up at his ceiling lights and wondered where the fuck Stefan was. His brother had to be having more fun than he was.

His head hurt. He closed his eyes and he could see Liz telling him to pull himself together in that oh-so-sensible voice she saved just for him, the one he took great pleasure in undermining. He thought about how she never took any of his crap, but also how she didn't play games. Since she had left he had no missed calls, no text messages. Nothing. Radio silence.

He sat upright and cursed out loud.

He was gonna have to call her.

* * *

He gave it another day. Which is about how long it took his hangover to subside despite his capacity for super healing. Hell, for a History teacher, Ric sure knew how to put 'em away.

He picked up his phone and dialed her cell. She would answer, right? I mean aside from anything, she was an officer of the law and therefore it was her job to take his call.

When it went through to voicemail he hung up. She didn't even give him the satisfaction of hearing her voice; it was an automated message.

He called the station. The assistant he remembered from before picked up and gave him an official sounding greeting.

"Er, Margaret, isn't it?" He asked. She sounded suspicious, but said that it was. "I was wondering if you could tell me whether the Sheriff is available to speak to right now?"

"Excuse me, but would you happen to be Damon Salvatore?" She asked. Oh no, that was not good.

"Um, yeah..?"

"She said to tell you that she has gone upstate for a few days, on a job."

"Oh." He cleared his throat. "Upstate. For a few days. On a job." He repeated levelly.

"That's right, sir."

"Margaret, where is she _really_?" The voice on the other end of the line paused for a moment, before replying.

"She's upstate, sir." He hung up. Paced the room. Made a decision. He grabbed his car keys and jacket and left the house.

* * *

He rang the doorbell three times and hammered on it too. When Caroline opened it he felt taken aback. Damn, she was not who he wanted to deal with right now.

"Oh, hey Damon. What's the emergency?" She said.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" He said gruffly. The smile died on her face.

"Firstly, today is Saturday and secondly, what the _fuck_, Damon?" She said slowly, but not entirely angrily. She knew something was up with him.

He felt immediately bad. None of this was her fault, but as he didn't do apologies, he just softened his face a little.

"No emergency. I'm just leaving." He turned to go and she came outside and closed the door after her. She caught up to him and touched him on the shoulder.

"Hey, what is it? What's up?"

"Nothing." He said rattily.

"Okay, now I _know_ something's up." She took his hand and lead him across the road into a kiddies play park. She sat him down on a bench. They watched as the moms and dads played with their kids. "So I take it it was my mom you wanted to see?" He said nothing, but looked away as he ground his teeth. She studied his face. "What have you done to her, Damon?" She said after a moment. He glanced in her direction.

"Nothing."

"Liar. She's been upstairs in bed for two days. She's never sick, Damon. Never." She watched him grind his teeth again. "What have you done to her?" She asked more seriously this time.

"I haven't done anything, Caroline. Why don't you just mind your own business." He snapped harshly. She should have flinched, but she knew his bark too well. She studied his face carefully.

"Oh my God, you two are... together?" She said, her eyebrows raising up into her hairline. He said nothing. She put her head in her hands. "Oh, Jesus." There was a moment where she thought the blood had rushed from her head, when she remembered that was impossible.

"Is she okay?" He asked eventually.

"Damon, please. I need a minute here." She raised her head. "I am still processing this."

He grew quiet. Her mind raced, but eventually she gathered her thoughts.

"How long has this been going on?" She asked quietly. He shrugged. "Damon. She is my _mom_." She looked queazy, but when he met her eyes, she could see he had feelings that she never would have expected. "Wow, you really like her don't you?"

Damn Blondie, she was perceptive. He would never call her Barbie again.

"I still don't see that it's any of your business." He repeated, but he was less prickly this time. She nodded.

"I guess..." She replied dubiously. "But it _is_ my business when she stays in bed for two days. I thought she had flu. Now it all makes sense." She looked away, her brain whizzing through the last few weeks. Her mum _had_ seemed kind of happier of late. Hell, one day she had even come downstairs to find that her mom had made her pancakes! She should have known something was up.

"I can't believe this." She said more to herself than him.

He sat watching the kids play. Parents who probably told their children never to talk to strangers quietly ignored the two killers in their midst.

Caroline went quiet for a moment and thought things through. If her mom was this upset, then she must really care about Damon. And if he had turned up on their doorstep, then he had to care about her too. That was so not his style. And even Margaret at the station had already called to say that he had phoned them this morning, asking to speak to Liz. She had knocked on her mom's door to try and pass on the message, but got silence as her reward. Now it all made sense.

"Do you ever do anything that doesn't involve massive amounts of drama?" She asked him finally. He looked at her but didn't respond. She stood up. "Go home, Damon."

"I want to speak to her."

"Listen to me, she doesn't want to see you right now. It's the last thing she wants." She sighed, sat back down close to his leg and glanced at him. "Leave this to me."

"You're going to help me?" She nodded. "Why would you do that?"

"Because clearly I am as sick and twisted as you are." She gave him a bit of a sideways nudge. She leaned in closer and said in a low voice. "_My_ mom, Damon. Seriously?" He nudged her back and she smiled.

"Okay then, well obviously the world has gone insane, so I am gonna split before you tell me you are dating Matt or someone." She stood up. "Oh, thank heaven for small mercies," she suddenly exclaimed, "I suppose it could of been my Dad!". He looked up, met her eyes and finally cracked the smallest of smiles. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead then began to walk away. He called after her.

"Hey, Barbie. You're okay you know." She took that as an apology for everything that had ever happened in their own relationship.

"Yeah, well. Clearly I'm not right in the head either." She said and skipped back across the road.

* * *

She wasn't in the least bit surprised when she knocked on her mother's door and got rebuked.

"Go away, Caroline. I don't want you to catch this." For one, her mom had forgotten that vampires didn't get sick, and for two, there was no illness to catch.

"I'm coming in, mom." She warned her before slowly opening the door and slipping inside. Liz was under her duvet facing the wall. Caroline felt a surge of pity go through her. She hadn't seen her like since... well, since that other bad time.

She went and sat beside her, reached down and touched her mom's shoulder.

"Mom, I know what's really wrong." Liz turned towards her and Caroline was almost taken aback to see her puffy red eyes. She hardly ever saw her mom cry. She just wasn't that type of woman. She sighed. She was clearly hurting bad. "I know about Damon."

"You do?" Caroline nodded. "Are you mad at me? Honey, I never meant for it to happen, it just did."

She shrugged. "It's okay. I get it. He grows on you. Kinda like mould." She said wryly. "But I do get it." She pushed some hair out of her mom's face and stroked it away from her eyes. "So you really like him, huh?"

Her mom nodded, then her lip wavered and she began to cry. Caroline leaned down and gave her a hug. It was a weird sensation. She and her mom hardly ever touched. She thought of the few times they had and generally it had been over men, only the roles had been reversed and it had been her seeking the comfort.

"Hey, stop that. You know he's really into you too, don't you? I mean, I know Damon well enough to tell you that him calling your cell, the station and then showing up and your door, is kind of a big deal." Her mom wiped her eyes with a shredded Kleenex and sniffed.

"You think so?" She said. Caroline smiled, geez this really was topsy-turvy world. She felt like someone was about to jump out on her and say _'You've been Punk'd!'_.

"Yeah. He's gutted that you are hurting. You know, you should go see him. Make up."

"No. I don't want to see him again." Her mom said stubbornly. Caroline stroked her hair again. Sometimes she could really see where she got some of her more willful traits.

"Don't be too hard on him. Look, I know he can be a dick some of the time. Well, hell, most of the time actually. But he can be a lot of fun too and kind of sweet in his own way." She sighed. Now she was actually _selling_ Damon to her mom for pities sake. He owed her for this _big_ time.

"I feel stupid. We only saw each other a few times - you know nothing serious." Caroline held her hands up.

"I may be generally, hypothetically okay with this, but that is waaay too much information." Liz looked apologetic. She uncharacteristically reached for her daughter's hand. Caroline felt a lump in her throat.

"I won't ever forgive him for hurting my baby." She said. "You know that don't you? Whatever happens, I am furious with him for what he did to you." Caroline's eyes filled with tears. When one spilled, she hurriedly wiped it away.

"This isn't about me, it's about you." She said. "And besides, that is old news, which I have totally forgiven him for and so should you." She squeezed her mom's hand. "You know, I hate seeing you like this." She said honestly. Her mom was the strong one, the stoic one. Always had been. "Mom," she added quietly, "I'm sorry I blamed you when Dad left. It wasn't your fault. I get that now."

"Water under the bridge." Her mom said and attempted a smile. Caroline stood up, let go of her hand and made for the door. She turned around one last time.

"Go see Damon, mom. He cares about you. A lot. I know you find it difficult to trust him, but if I can, then you can too." She went to leave the room, but her mom called her back.

"Caroline?"

"Yes?"

"Will you help me get ready? Please?" Caroline's face cracked into a smile.

"Mom," she said, "is the Pope Catholic?"

* * *

When he opened the door he took a moment to close his mouth. Liz was stood there, looking glamorous beyond his wildest expectations.

"Caroline." She said by way of explanation. He smiled, took her hand and pulled her into his arms.

"I thought I messed up."

"You did."

"Am I forgiven?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"On what happens next." She pulled back out of his arms a little and he looked into her eyes.

"I care about you Liz. A lot. But I want to be honest with you. I don't think what I am looking for right now is a relationship." His eyes searched for her honest response and he was pleased when she didn't leave, cry, or anything else that he feared. Instead she nodded, appraising his response with the same practicality with which she approached her job.

"I hear you can be fun." She said, a smile creeping over her face.

"Oh yeah, did Barbie tell you that?"

"Barbie?" She said looking puzzled. He smiled. "I can't believe she defended you."

"I guess I owe her for that." He said.

"I guess you do." She added. "Maybe I do too." He leaned back and took her all in.

"You know, you really look amazing. Too good just to sit around here. What do you say to going dancing?"

"Dancing? Now?"

"Sure. Give me two minutes." He disappeared with vampire speed and when he came back he was dressed to kill. He looked so gorgeous as to be edible. She took a breath.

"_You_ want to go out with _me_?" She said, her insecurities sending anxious cramps into her belly. He frowned.

"Only if you'll let me." He said genuinely. "I know you could do better, but hey, be warned - I put up a pretty spirited fight." She smiled at that. He flung an arm around her and moved her towards the door before she could protest.

At his car he opened the door for her, but she hesitated before getting in.

"Damon?"

"What is it, beautiful?" He asked her.

"I'm glad to have you as my friend." She said. He leaned forwards and kissed her cheek so he wouldn't smear her make-up.

"Come on, get in. I want to dance with you until dawn."


	6. I'm Invulnerable to Your Charms

**I'm not gonna tell you what either of them wanted from each other, so don't ask. It really doesn't matter. :-D**

* * *

**I'm Invulnerable to Your Charms**

"I was passing and I've only dropped in to tell you that I won't give you the information you want. Just because we're friends doesn't give you the right to access police records." Liz said as she stepped out of the patrol car. She put her hands on her hips in the way she always did when she was squaring up to someone. Damon tried to put aside his urge to sweep her into his arms. Besides he wanted an answer to his question.

"Elizabeth -" He purred, making big eyes at her.

"Don't you 'Elizabeth' me..." She gave him a warning look, knowing he only called her that when he wanted something (because she liked the way it sounded coming from him).

She hid the smile that threatened to break through her tough demeanor. He looked at her with narrowed eyes.

"Playing hardball, huh?"

"Mm-hmm."

He leaned in and whispered to her. "We'll see about that."

He had her off her feet and up through his bedroom window in less than a second. When he placed her down on his bed, she was breathless.

"That is an unfair advantage!" She complained, but her pout was not entirely truthful. She loved it when he whisked her off her feet. He stretched his body out above hers and nuzzled her throat with his lips.

"Mm-hmm, and I know how you hate it. When. I. Do. This. Too." He said punctuating each word with a feathery, soft kiss. Liz moaned, she could feel her arousal for him building already. It was so unfair what he did to her. She was a sucker for all his bad-boy antics. She moaned and found herself giving in to it, already his hand had slowly undone the buttons of her uniform and was creeping under the fabric towards her breast. She pushed him off her, sat upright and did up her shirt.

"I've already told you that you can't seduce me every time you want something."

Damon had one of those incorrigible smiles on face that meant he only saw that as a challenge. He scooted up the bed until he was in her space again and began to stroke her neck with the back of his fingers, moving his hand up until he could begin rubbing her earlobe gently between his thumb and fingertip. She closed her eyes and breathed hard. Damn him for knowing that her ears were her weak spot. She felt a shiver run through her.

"Stop that."

"Make me." He said in a low, honey-toned voice. She pushed his hand away, but her own was shaking. She knew he could hear her heartbeat racing and feel her elevated pulse.

"I am not at your beck and call." She said hautily.

He ran his fingertips very slowly over the name tag sewn to her breast pocket, "Of course not, Sheriff Forbes. I would never presume that you were." He suddenly cast his stunning blue eyes up to hers and she felt herself blush profusely. He was in a full on seduction mode and she was absolutely and _definitely_ not going to give in to it. He let his eyes tell her exactly what he would like to be doing to her right now. She hadn't seen him for the best part of a month and although she would not admit it, she was absolutely desperate to have those eyes looking down on her as he moved inside her body... Oh God. She brushed that thought right out of her mind.

She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back at arm's length. She got up off the bed (now to be considered a 'no-fly zone') and began to pace. Damon just grinned and fell back onto the bed, lay on his elbows and watched her.

"Has anyone told how hot you are when you're mad?" He said. She looked at him, but refused to comment.

She moved her hand on her pepper spray. "I am not afraid to use this you know."

He laughed. "Does it have garlic in it?"

"I'm thinking of getting some specially made." She replied in a low voice, fixing him with a stare. His grin hadn't left his face and once again she tried very hard not to let the smile in her eyes meet her mouth. She knew he saw it anyway.

"I _will_ get what I want, Elizabeth Forbes. And you know it. So you may as well give in to me now." He followed her with those alluring eyes.

"If you think I just give up information to any common criminal who has a sweet smile and a cheap line, you don't know me very well."

"A 'common criminal'? I'm offended! At the very least, I'd like to be considered an uncommon one. And my lines are _not_ cheap." He smoldered. She stopped her pacing and looked at him.

"You're the worst kind there is! The list of laws you have broken is longer than the Bill of Rights. I dread to think how many countries, never mind States, you are wanted in."

Damon picked at his nail. "You make me sound so delightfully _sordid_." He let the word 'sordid' drip off his tongue like warm molasses. He looked up at her. "Do you want to punish me?"

She looked at him disapprovingly. "Not especially."

"You want to spank me don't you? Go on, admit it."

"I'm not perverted like you are."

"The way you would have it, is that I sound like a very dangerous criminal indeed. How can you let me roam the streets?"

"Oh yes, you're the worst kind of there is. An egomaniac -"

"Moi? Never!"

"Unrepentant -"

"Well there was this bunny I killed this one time, I do feel kinda bad about that -"

"And you are -"

Before she could finish her sentence, Damon's lips were on hers and his tongue was between her lips. All too quickly, she found herself letting his hands wander all over body. After her moment of weakness, she regained her composure and pushed him away. He smiled cockily.

"No means no, Damon! N. O. How many more ways have I got to say it?"

Damon grinned his lopsided smile and began to pace the room like a bad Shakespearian actor.

"How about 'alas poor Damon, I will never grant your request'?"

"Yes, I like that -"

"Or maybe the more formal approach - 'Mister Salvatore, I have given your request due consideration and I am afraid I must respond in the negative."

"Get's the job done."

"Or maybe, I dun' wan' no drama." He wagged his finger at her.

"Unlikely I would put it that way - but if it get's the message through -"

By now he had made a lap of the entire room and he turned back to face her. "How about a little music?"

"I'm really not bothered." He clapped his hands and music started.

"A little drink?"

"I'm on duty."

He looked at her a with his head cocked to one side, then smiled. "You look great. Have you lost a little weight?"

"Really, Damon, that line as old as you are."

"Have you done something different with your hair?" He waved his hand in the air and smirked.

"It's the same way I wear it every day."

He walked over to her. "I think these pants look too big for you. Let me help you out of them." He began to unzip them slowly.

She pushed his hand away and did the zip back up. "They fit just fine."

"I know, a little mood lighting!" He sped over and dimmed the lights.

"Well I certainly am in _some_ kind of mood..."

"I know what you want." He said pointing his finger at her, "You want some of this." He indicated himself, then began to undo his shirt slowly, one button at a time, making a massive meal of it stripper style. "Oh yeah, baby. You want this body. Uh-huh." When he reached the last button, he tweaked his nipple with an exaggerated stripper 'Ooh' face.

Liz had to try very hard not to crack a smile. She coughed and pulled out her notepad.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Writing you up for indecent exposure."

"Oh _that__'__s_ not indecent exposure. _This_ is indecent exposure." He said putting his hand on his fly. She her palm out flat to him.

"Stop right there, mister!" He held both his hands up, then dropped them to his hips. He chewed his lip as he reconsidered his plan.

He walked over to her and took her into a dance hold.

"I get it, you want a little more romance before I show you the time of your life." He said and began to waltz her around the room. He dipped her backwards and went in for the kill, she ducked away.

"Not really."

Damon stroked his chin.

"You want me to cook you a beautiful dinner? A little food, a little wine..."

"I'm on a diet."

"You can cover me in chocolate body paint?" He said sounding desperate.

"Sounds _very_ unhygienic."

He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her dead in the eye._"_Prendimi adesso, amore mio._"_

"Alas, I don't speak Italian."

"Me prendre maintenant, mon amour._" _

"I also failed French."

Damon got down on his knees and looked up at her, placed his hands on her feet.

"You want me to beg? I'll beg. Liz Forbes - beautiful woman in my life - goddess of justice, hear my plea. I, Damon Salvatore, want to make love to you and worship you all night long in exchange for one teeny-tiny bit of information. Almost nothing really. And in return I will give you a night of passion that I promise you will never, ever forget, for all your born days." He put his right hand on his heart and his left in the air. "On my heart, I do solemnly swear."

"Only one tiny problem there." She said, leaning down to him and whispering. "You don't have a heart." She stood back upright and grinned.

"Well I don't _now_. You've just shattered it." He said pouting. "Fine." He got up and crossed his arms across his chest. "You're impossible to please woman, so kindly remove yourself from my property."

"Didn't you say something about cooking for me?" She said. He opened his bedroom door and indicated the exit.

"Find a doughnut shop."

She walked up to him and leaned in to kiss his cheek, but he pulled away and put his chin in the air. She stifled a smile.

"Goodbye, Damon." She said sweetly and blew him a kiss.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out." He said and let the door swing shut behind her.

* * *

Damon was reading when he heard the knock on the door. He put the book down and wondered who it could be as it was a quarter past midnight and too late for most visitors. He assumed Elena had forgotten her key, but when he opened the door to berate her, Liz faced him. He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms across his chest.

"What do _you_ want?" He said with mock-seriousness.

She chewed her lip. "Damon, I kind of need to ask you a favor."

"Oh you do, huh? Well good luck with that."

"Pretty please."

"Nope."

"You won't please help me?" She said fluttering her eyelashes.

"Not a chance."

She sighed and seemed to think about it for a minute. She put her hand onto her belt and pulled out her handcuffs.

"I'll let you use these."

"Well hell woman, what are you waiting outside in the cold for? Get in here."

* * *

Liz turned over onto her front and she laughed. "You are too easy."

"What can I say? I can't resist a woman in charge." He gave her his familiar lopsided smile. He reached out for her and she moved back into his arms and rested on his naked chest looking at him. He stroked her back affectionately.

"Are you this easy with everyone?" She said.

"I try."

"You slut."

"Again, I try."

"Even aging rock-stars slow down eventually, you know." She said and leaned down to kiss his chest.

"Well, old vampires don't have to. The go to their local police station and pick up hot cops."

"You think I'm hot?" She said coyly.

"You know I think you are." He said, brushing her hair from her forehead.

She lay her head back down on his chest. "Are you seeing anyone else right now?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I guess you sap all my energy. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder who the vampire is in this relationship." He said. He spun her over suddenly and pinned her beneath him, which made her shriek.

"You gonna bite me?" She said, looking up at him, her breaths coming quickly.

"Do you want me to?" He said in all seriousness. She thought about that for a moment and nodded.

"Yes, I guess. I'd like to know what it feels like."

Damon smiled at her. "It can feel any way I want it to feel." He said. "And right now, I think you deserve a little punishment." He turned rapidly and she found herself taking a sharp intake of breath as she saw his pointed incisors and red-veined eyes.

Damon dipped down her body and threw the covers over his head, and she found that he was between her legs again. She gasped as he began to lick her. The intense orgasm she had had only moments before had left her sensitive, so when he began to touch her again, she was quick to find herself falling back into waves of pleasure. As she began to crest, he bit down into her thigh and began to suck.

The pain was there, but so was intense pleasure. Her body went rigid, as one of his hands grasped for her breast. She came crying out, and when he finished sucking on her, he licked her wound to catch the last two drops of blood and he let his face change back. He came up to kiss her.

"Was that what you expected?" He asked.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded shyly. He smiled and pulled her back into his arms.

"Well next time you come around here asking for favors, don't expect me to give in so easily."

"I won't." She said coyly.

"Why don't I believe you?" He said.

"Because I have my fingers crossed." She said, showing him and he pretended to be scandalized and began to tickle her.


End file.
